


One-shots related to Topaz and Cornflower

by SaintNynniaw



Series: Topaz And Cornflower [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Caring Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mpreg, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Omega Jaskier | Dandelion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Recovery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:22:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintNynniaw/pseuds/SaintNynniaw
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots related to the fic Topaz and Cornflower, based on reader suggestions. They probably won't make sense unless you read Topaz and Cornflower first, but I hope you enjoy!If you want to read Topaz and Cornflower first, you can do so here:Topaz and Cornflower(43110 words)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Topaz And Cornflower [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2091087
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120





	1. Fairy Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! This is the first of what shall be a number of one-shots revolving around Topaz and Cornflower.  
> This chapter takes place a bit further into Jaskier’s pregnancy, just for some context. There are no content warnings. Enjoy!

The day had been a long, clear one, and the sun had been high when Geralt had set off for the market with a list from Jaskier. _Hazelnuts_ , it read, which made Geralt chuckle—Jaskier had been craving hazelnuts since the seventh or eighth week of his pregnancy, and Geralt would have brough him some even without the reminder—but the other items were a little more interesting. This week, Jask wanted honeycomb, cream, almond biscuits, and fiddleheads, on top of the normal shopping that Geralt had to do. It had taken Jaskier a while to get comfortable asking for whatever he was craving, but it seemed that Geralt had finally convinced him that it was alright.

The sun had started to drop, but all the same, the fresh air felt bracing and alive as Geralt perused the market. The awnings of the stalls flapped in the wind, causing vendors to guard their lighter wares from the breeze lest they be blown away.

The sound of fluttering drew Geralt’s ear, followed by a helpless yelp. Turning, he found a vendor trying her best to catch a number of books that had tumbled off of her table. One slender volume, catching the wind like a sail, flapped along the ground by Geralt’s feet. Shifting the bag of groceries he’d already bought, he reached down and picked it up. He walked over to the stall and dropped it on top of one of the stabler-looking piles of books. The vendor popped her head up, looking disheveled, with an armful of fallen tomes. “Oh!” she said. She dropped her wares unceremoniously onto the table. “Um. Thank you, witcher… sir.”

“Hmm.”

The vendor started stacking the books back into their proper places, glancing up at him every now and again. Geralt thought she looked more curious than fearful. “Suppose I can help you find anything?”

Geralt was about to shake his head, when a title in the vendor’s hand caught his eye. “What’s that?”

The vendor held up the book. “This?” The cover was blue, and the title— _Chronicles of the Fey Folk_ —was stamped into the leather. “Fairy tales.” Her eyes brightened. “This is one of my favorites, actually.” She fanned through the pages. “It’s got stories collected from across the continent. Some go back generations.” She offered it to him. “Have a look?”

“Fairy stories?” Geralt mused, accepting the book. He flicked through a few pages, scanning the titles of each story.

“Oh, yes!” The vendor propped her elbows on her stall. “Most of them are true, actually. Real encounters with the fae. Some of them are beautiful, some of them are terrifying. I love all of them.”

It was a whim, but… “Hmm,” Geralt said. He reached for his coin purse. “I’ll take it.”

The vendor beamed. 

Geralt handed over the appropriate change, and tucked the book into his bag. Hopefully Jaskier would like it; Geralt would give it to him when he handed over the hazelnuts.

***

Jaskier was sitting at the table when Geralt got home. He looked up with a smile when Geralt opened the door, setting aside his quill. His notebook lay open in front of him, and Geralt knew it was a sign of trust that Jaskier didn’t flip it closed at Geralt’s approach. “Hey,” Jaskier said as Geralt set the bags on the table. He rested a palm on top of his rounded belly, eyeing the groceries.

Suppressing a smile at Jaskier’s not-so-covert attempts to see what food Geralt had brought, he pulled the little sack of roasted hazelnuts out of the bag. “Don’t worry, I got them.” He dug through the rest of the bag. “And everything else, too.”

Jaskier immediately drew the hazelnuts toward himself and unfastened the drawstring to pop a couple into his mouth. “Thank you for going out,” he said apologetically. “I would have gone with you, if Clara was feeling better.”

“It’s no problem.” Clara had come down with a little cold earlier that morning, and Jaskier, who usually would have just brought her along while he and Geralt bought groceries, had wanted to keep her in the apartment until she was feeling better. Right now, Clara was sleeping in her cradle. “I don’t mind at all.” Geralt walked over to her cradle and gently rested the backs of two fingers against her little forehead. She didn’t have a fever. That was good.

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

There was a scrape as Jaskier pushed his chair back, and Geralt turned to find him walking over, one hand under his belly and the other waving the blue-bound book playfully. “What’s this?”

“Oh!” Geralt straightened. “I bought that for you.”

“Fairy tales?” Jaskier was already grinning as he opened the book and began flipping through the pages. “Really?”

Geralt shrugged. “I thought you might find them funny, at least.”

Jaskier’s eyes were already flicking back and forth over the lines. Huffing a little laugh, Geralt reached out to steal one of the omega’s hands in his grasp. He tugged Jaskier over to the bed, where he laid down and patted the empty space until Jaskier, still skimming the text, sat on the edge next to him.

“Give me that,” Geralt said, plucking the book out of Jaskier’s hand and ignoring his indignant little squawk of protest. That protest was clearly for show, though, because Jaskier quickly rolled over to curl against Geralt. He rested his cheek on Geralt’s chest, and draped one knee over Geralt’s legs. The swell of his belly pressed against Geralt’s side.

“Are you going to read to me?” The smile that fluttered over Jaskier’s lips was perfect, and the amusement in his eyes made them sparkle.

“Hmm.” In response, Geralt thumbed to the first page. “Once upon a time—”

“Oh my gods,” Jaskier giggled. “Does it actually start with ‘once upon a time?’”

“Hush,” Geralt chuckled. With the hand that didn’t hold the book, he absently played with Jaskier’s silky hair. “Yes, it does.” He cleared his throat and started again. “Once upon a time…”

Despite his entertained teasing, Jaskier fell quiet once the story began in earnest. Every few paragraphs, Geralt stole a glance at the omega’s face. Sometimes, Jaskier was smirking, as if amused by some great inaccuracy, and sometimes, warmth suffused his features as the story took a turn for the sweet. Once, Geralt looked down to find tears beading silently in Jaskier’s eyes; for a moment, he hesitated, wondering if he should keep reading, but at his pause, Jaskier looked up with a sniffle. “Why’d you stop?”

The sun was entirely below the horizon when Geralt fell silent. By his side, Jaskier’s breaths were slow and even with sleep. Geralt folded the corner of the page and closed the book quietly. Looking at Jaskier in the soft darkness, Geralt was once again struck by the beauty of his form. That perfection went far beyond the dark fall of his eyelashes over his cheek, or the soft pink of his slightly-open lips. That perfection was just… Jaskier. It was the way he laughed. His devotion to his daughter. His cleverness, and his artistry—he’d let Geralt read a couple of the poems he’d composed, and Geralt had nearly been brought to his knees by the depth of emotion the omega had been able to pour onto the page. It was Jaskier’s fragility, and his strength.

Geralt pressed a kiss gently to Jaskier’s forehead. “Goodnight, Jask,” he whispered, even though Jaskier would not hear. “Sleep well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to muffledturkeynoises for their suggestion "geralt shells out for a storybook purely to make jaskier happy? esp if its of silly inaccurate fairytales." Thanks so much, muffledturkeynoises! I had a lot of fun writing this.
> 
> Comments and kudos warm the tumultuous depths of my soul!


	2. Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one-shot! This one thanks to inanoldhouseinparis!
> 
> Content warnings: abuse, threat of non-con (non-con not shown--still, proceed with caution, please), non-con touching

Everything hurt.

It hurt on a level that transcended the physical, and somehow, the pain that _wasn’t_ constantly wracking his body with near-feverish aches actually felt worse. The physical pain was easier to get used to, and he was certainly used to it. It never went away.

Jaskier was just barely seventeen, and he’d never been so alone.

His first time in a strange alpha’s bed had been nearly five years earlier, and he had thought it the worst night of his life. He could still remember the terror of it all, the pain, the way he’d felt _filthy_ as soon as it was over—or maybe he didn’t have to remember; it wasn’t like it had stopped happening.

But at that moment, the level of awful that Jaskier was feeling was _noteworthy_. An achievement, given how awful he felt most of the time.

He was wearing a garment whose actual surface area could be rounded down to approximately nothing, and he was doing his best not to bite his nails. He’d stabbed his own tongue with his claws far too many times from that particular nervous habit. At the moment, he was alone, but he knew it wouldn’t be for long; he could hear the voices coming from the front of the house, where he was never allowed to go because it was too close to the door out. His own quarters were bare and small, adorned only with a mattress and a washtub, but right then, they were the safest place he could think of. He didn’t want to come out, and he didn’t want anyone else coming in.

Stupid hopes.

The scent of a new alpha was already wafting from the front room. It made Jaskier’s hair stand on end, and he found himself instinctively backing into the corner of the room. Gods, it reeked—it reminded Jaskier of the metallic, overpowering scent of a sulfur hot spring, burning and sick.

“He’s very responsive,” the more-familiar of the two voices said, and Jaskier cringed. That voice belonged to the alpha who had purchased him a year ago, a man who, Jaskier had to admit, wasn’t the _worst_ he’d ever had. “Pretty, too.”

“I want to see him,” the other voice grunted. “I’m not taking your word for anything.”

There were no windows in Jaskier’s tiny room, and the door locked from the outside. There was no way out, and nobody to sweep down from above and save him. His owner grunted, and footsteps thumped over to the door of Jaskier’s chamber. The sound of a key bit into the lock.

Jaskier did his best no to quail back as the scent of unfamiliar alpha rolled over the room. The new man was definitely trying to intimidate him with it, and truthfully, it was working. The new man crossed his arms in the doorway while Jaskier’s owner strode into the room. He didn’t even greet Jaskier before he’d grabbed him by the upper arm and dragged him into the middle of the floor. The stranger watched as Jaskier’s owner took Jaskier by the chin and tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck. “No mating bites, eh? Rare to find in an omega like this.”

The new alpha looked unimpressed. “Maybe nobody wanted to mate with him because he looks like _that_.”

Jaskier’s owner raised his eyebrows and pointed behind Jaskier’s back. “You’re referring to these?”

“What else?”

Grinning, Jaskier’s owner manhandled him to turn around. Jaskier was already shivering, trying to retreat fast into his own head, but fear was flooding his veins and keeping him present. He didn’t want to be present. His owner began unfolding his wings, none too gently, and Jaskier had to press a palm to his mouth as nausea rolled in the pit of his stomach. “Stand up straight,” his owner snapped, and cuffed Jaskier sharply on the back of the head. “Go on.”

Jaskier did his best to comply.

“Watch this,” his owner said, sounding pleased. Jaskier knew what was coming.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

The man found a spot on the inside of Jaskier’s hindwing, near where the wing met his back, and, with pointed deliberateness, scraped the blunt end of his nail slowly over it.

Heat billowed through Jaskier’s body, and he couldn’t stop the gasp. His knees collapsed, weak, beneath him, and his owner caught him by the waist as he went boneless. Even as Jaskier’s head spun, he caught the gut-turning scent of the new alpha’s arousal.

_This isn’t going to be good._

“Interesting,” the stranger growled, and he sounded pleased.

“Here,” Jaskier’s owner said, and then the new alpha’s hands were on Jaskier’s body. His head was still swimming. “You try.”

Unfamiliar hands searched over Jaskier’s back, and then Jaskier let out a muffled cry as the alpha prodded the sensitive spot. _He didn’t want this. Please._ But he couldn’t seem to be able to speak, and he knew the alpha wouldn’t listen anyway.

“Oh?” the alpha said. With a grin, he pressed it, letting the tip of his nail press into the spot, and Jaskier’s eyes rolled back as his head lolled without his permission. “What is this?”

“Not sure,” Jaskier’s owner said. His voice sounded muffled to Jaskier’s ears. “I found it on accident.”

Jaskier knew what it was. It was one of the most vulnerable spots on a faery’s body. Nobody— _nobody_ —except one’s mate was supposed to touch it. It was a place to be protected. A private place.

“Just seems to overwhelm him,” Jaskier’s owner went on. “Useful, really.”

The strange alpha was currently nosing along the column of Jaskier’s throat, his hot breath foul against Jaskier’s skin. “He smells delicious.”

“That he does,” Jaskier’s owner agreed. There was greed in his voice.

“How much?” the stranger asked, and Jaskier’s owner beamed.

“Tell you what,” he said, sounding smug. “You have him for the night, and I’ll name my price in the morning.”

The stranger caressed Jaskier’s neck, deliberately pressing on his scent glands. If Jaskier had felt nauseous before, he felt positively sick, now—sick and terrified, but he could barely _move_.

_Help_.

The alpha grinned. “I like the way you bargain.” He hauled Jaskier over to the mattress, and dumped him unceremoniously on his stomach before turning to Jaskier’s owner. “Give me some privacy?”

“Of course.” Jaskier’s owner smirked. “If you break him, you buy him.” The door opened, and then closed, and his owner’s voice sounded from outside. “Have a pleasant night.”

_Help_.

Jaskier fought with uncooperative limbs as the new alpha hovered behind him. “You are pretty, aren’t you?” he mused, and Jaskier heard the sound of clothing being unbuttoned.

“Help,” Jaskier managed, and that’s when he realized he was crying, tears running into the dirty mattress. “Someone, please…”

“What’s that?” the alpha said. He sounded amused more than anything.

“Help,” Jaskier whispered, and he didn’t know who he was talking to, but he didn’t know what else to do. There _was_ nothing else to do. He got an arm under him, but before he could push himself up, the alpha had a hand tight around the back of his neck.

“None of that, now.”

“Please…” Jaskier whimpered. He was pretty sure he was just praying, at this point. He wanted someone to break down the wall and take him away. He wanted so many things that he could never, ever have. “Help me, please…”

_“Jaskier.”_

Jaskier knew that voice. “Please,” he sobbed louder. The voice was familiar, and he held onto its sound like a lifeline. “Help me, please… please…”

“Jask.” The voice was patient, rough as if recently asleep. “Jask, I’m right here.”

The edges of the room were rippling, like the sun makes mirages over hot ground. Fear was still firing through Jaskier’s veins.

“Hey.” There was something warm on his arm, and at first, he jerked away from the contact. The warmth drew back, but then it returned to brush his hair softly out of his face. “Wake up, Jask.”

_Wake up?_

“You’re dreaming,” the voice came again, and gods, it was familiar. Jaskier loved that voice. He was sure of it. “I’m right here. I promise.”

With great difficulty, Jaskier took a deep breath.

The room with the basin and the bare mattress was gone. In its place was soft darkness, and the sound of his own heartbeat racing in his ears. He was shaking.

“There you are,” Geralt said gently. “Are you alright?”

Blinking, Jaskier could do nothing but stare at the witcher while his lower lip began to tremble. Geralt’s hair was tangled with sleep, and his eyes were dark and warm in the dimness. His scent, that comforting concoction of woodsmoke and forest and faraway places, filled the space between them.

With a little sob, Jaskier pulled himself to Geralt’s body. The witcher’s hands encircled him patiently, tracing little nonsense shapes soothingly between his shoulder blades as Jaskier started to cry quietly into his chest. “You’re okay,” Geralt murmured. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

“You came,” Jaskier hiccupped. The memory of the dream still danced mockingly around the edges of his awareness, but Geralt’s presence was a shield, and it held the fear at bay. “You came for me…”

“I’ll always come for you,” Geralt said softly, and Jaskier heard it as a rumble through the witcher’s chest. “I’m here.”

Jaskier’s cries slowly turned to little gasps, and gasps to steady breathing. Geralt held him close, and eventually, Jaskier felt his heavy eyelids falling closed again.

Geralt was there.

He was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Jaskier having a flashback nightmare where he is wishing someone would help him, someone would save him. Then he wakes up in Geralt's arms."  
> Thanks, inanoldhouseinparis! This was a tough one to write, since writing a flashback always means writing a bit of the actual hell Jask's past is, but I think it was worth it.  
> As always, comments and kudos make me so very happy~   
> Have a lovely day!


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